


Brave

by itsfaberrytaboo (orphan_account)



Series: Wide Green Eyes [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bigs and littles are known, Bottle-Feeding, F/F, Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Shooting, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6926443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/itsfaberrytaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the next week, Maria tried to coax her. With a bottle full of milk on the kitchen counter. A yellow pacifier with a little brown bunny, perched on the coffee table in the living room. With a doll and a picture book, on Maria’s lap when she asked if Natasha wanted to read a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, please. This involves the shooting of a major character.

“Tell me again why I can’t leave.”

“Because you’re the director of SHIELD.”

Natasha finished adjusting the collar of Maria’s suit and smiled at her. She tipped herself up on her toes and lightly kissed her lips. “And the Avengers need you here to make us look good.” She smoothed her hands over Maria’s shoulders, trailing one downward until she rested it securely against her girlfriend’s waist.

They were stood off to the side of the podium, out of sight and listening to the raucous crowd outside just before Maria went on to make her speech. Maria had been reluctant to come to Capitol Hill and talk to the legislators about the Avengers, about the rebuilding of SHIELD and what it would mean for the United States, and the world at large. But she’d done it, and Natasha had sat in the chamber and watched with no small amount of pride as her girlfriend had handled each and every question deftly, shooting down every criticism and debate that came her way.

If there was one thing Natasha could say about Maria Hill, it’s that the woman who may as well have been an orphan had adopted the Avengers as family. And when her family was threatened, Maria got _very_ Mama Bear about it. She’d shone on the hot seat, protecting the legacy she was creating.  Protecting Cap, and Sam, and Clint. Tony and Natasha. All of them. Protecting _the world_ , whether they could see it or not.

“I don’t need to make you look good,” Maria murmured, kissing the shell of Natasha’s ear. “Have I ever told you how hot you look in a business suit?”

Natasha rolled her eyes and shoved at Maria’s shoulder. “Down, Commander. You can be more appreciative of the clothes when you’re getting them off me. _Later_. You’ve still got work to do.”

Maria let out an exaggerated sigh, but captured Natasha’s lips in a kiss. “I love you,” she said, pulling away. “See you in a few minutes.”

“See you in a few,” Natasha said, watching as Maria sauntered out to the podium, raising her hand at the rapid-fire deluge of reporters.

“One at a time, guys,” she said. “In case you weren’t aware, _I_ don’t have any superpowers.”

They laughed, and Natasha grinned, leaning against the wall just out of sight and watching.

“Okay, John, you can go first.”

“Commander Hill, what would you say was the main outcome of your meeting with the committee?”

Maria thought for a moment, then responded. “Understanding,” she said firmly. “The committee has made clear its resolve to protect the American people. And I have made it clear my resolve, along with the Avengers and SHIELD, to protect not just the American people, but the world.”

“But how do you answer those who say that the Avengers are causing too much collateral damage, causing harm to too many innocent people, while combatting threats to our security?”

Natasha winced a little. It wasn’t like the Avengers weren’t aware, she wanted to run out and proclaim. They knew perfectly well what they were doing. What they had done. If anybody was aware of the guilt, it was Natasha. Tony. Cap. They _knew_.

But though she itched to absolve herself, Natasha stayed quiet. And just watched.

Maria’s voice was calm, soft though it seemed to ring out over Washington.

“I would say that no one is more aware of the cost of freedom than those who choose to defend it, and—“

“What about those who weren’t given the choice?” A female voice rang out. “These are people who don’t want to be soldiers, they want to live their lives in peace.”

“Then blame those who try to take that peace,” Maria said evenly. “Not those who try to defend it. My agents, the entire SHIELD community, and the Avengers, we mourn with those families who have lost loved ones because of the violence that has touched our world. But we cannot let that grief prevent us from working to the greater good. Peace comes at a price. It always has, it always will.”

Maria glanced back and saw Natasha, giving her a faint smile, and Natasha blew her a kiss, hoping it would encourage the other woman. She hated that they all had to defend themselves against allegations of not giving a damn, when Natasha knew even she gave so much now – and she’d been trained all of her life not to feel _anything_.

Maria’s attention was drawn back to the reporters, to a rather smarmy-looking fellow that Natasha recognized as being the creator of some celebrity gossip site.

“Director Hill,” he began, his lips curling into a grin, “There are some who would say that you’ve been rather distracted in your duties ever since you bonded with, well, the Black Widow. How would you respond to that?”

Natasha sighed and watched as Maria’s hands tightened around the podium. She could see Maria’s jaw stretch into a thin, irritated line.

It hadn’t taken long, really, for people to find out. Natasha suspected that the greying SHIELD agent who’d caught her walking alongside Maria a few weeks ago, with a pacifier in her mouth, had gone spouting off to his friends or his partner about it. And then it was only just a matter of time. Most of the fervor had tapered off after a few web articles and magazine covers. Natasha figured the reporters had gotten tired of the “no comments” from Maria and one “Oh, fuck off” from Natasha.

Apparently not.

Maria’s back straightened, and she stared out at the reporters who stood in front of her, their microphones, phones, and tape recorders raised at her in some sort of gratuitous salute. Finally, she looked back to the one who had asked her the question.

“Always after the dirt, aren’t you, Tim?” She said, but then she smiled.

“But I’m afraid you’re going to come up empty.” Maria shrugged. “There’s no drama here, no distractions, no possibility that I don’t know what my job is because, what? Because I’m in a relationship with Natasha Romanoff?”

Natasha glanced down at her feet, unable to stop the smile that crept slowly over her face. She and Maria had discussed whether or not to acknowledge their relationship, in light of everything that was starting to be leaked about them. Natasha didn’t care who knew, really, but she knew Maria was much more private. They’d decided they wouldn’t deny it. They wouldn’t be ashamed, and if anyone asked, they would say what they thought.

Which was exactly what Maria was doing.

“I’m very cognizant of my professional relationship with Natasha, and so is she, because we’re adults. I have a job to do, and Natasha knows hers. There is no compromise there. During the day, she’s an agent, and I’m her boss.”

Natasha caught the smirk that appeared on Maria’s face, and snorted. Maria did like reminding her of that. A lot.

“And at the end of the day, when we’re at home….” Maria hesitated, then looked down at the podium with a soft expression on her face.

“At home she’s the love of my life.”

The reporters actually aww’ed at that, and Natasha felt as if she’d never get rid of that stupid grin she was currently wearing.

“Yes, but—“

“No, Tim,” Maria said, laughing and shaking her head. “Come on now, let’s give the _real_ journalists a chance to ask a question, okay?”

They were laughing then, Tim huffing his affront at Maria and Maria joking with him, leading every reporter in front of her on with her charm and command. They were clamoring for her attention, shouting questions in every direction, so that Natasha was barely able to hear the shot when it rang out.

Then there were screams, and somewhere in the crowd Natasha saw a flash of red and heard the clang of a shield – when had Cap gotten there? She looked to see Maria staring at her, her mouth open in shock.

Her hand was red as it gripped her side, and Natasha ran.

She caught Maria just as she went down, lowering the woman so that she was half on Natasha’s lap, held in her arms.

Another agent ran up to them. “Get me an ambulance,” Natasha shouted at her, then looked down to Maria. Her eyes were glassing over, and a chill ran up Natasha’s spine.

“Hey, Hill,” she said, keeping her voice light. “Where are you going? You’ve got work to do, don’t leave me yet, okay?”

“Okay,” Maria said, but her voice was faint. Natasha reached to clutch her hand, pressing them both into the wound at Maria’s side.

“Don’t do this to me,” Natasha murmured, trying to keep the pressure to stave off the bleeding. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Maria Hill, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” A tear spilled out of Maria’s eye, and her other hand reached up to touch Natasha’s cheek.

“Love you.”

“No,” Natasha snapped at her, watching Maria’s eyelids flutter. “Come on, Maria. I love you too, stay with me. Come on.”

Where was the damn ambulance? Off to the left she could see Cap wrestling a man to the ground.

Natasha leaned down and pressed her lips to Maria’s forehead. Maria’s hand had grown slack under hers.

“Stay awake,” she said against her skin. “Don’t go to sleep.” Natasha’s voice hitched and she hugged Maria closer.

“Mama, please don’t go to sleep…”

***

“We got him,” Cap said.

Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave the surgery suite in front of her. “I saw.”

She’d never seen Maria look so pale. The doctors weren’t working frantically over her, which gave Natasha some relief, but she wouldn’t feel normal until she could see Maria’s eyes looking back at her, full of life.

She wouldn’t feel _safe_ until she knew Maria was.

“I’m going to sit in while they question him.”

Natasha pushed back from the ledge she was leaning against. “Let’s go.”

She started to walk away, but Steve’s hand caught her upper arm and pulled her back.

“You can’t go.”

Natasha laughed at him. It was an almost involuntary sound, bubbling up out of her in pain and derision.

“You’re not the boss, Captain.”

She wanted to know _why_. She could think of a million reasons why someone would want _her_ dead. But not Maria. There was no explanation why Maria Hill was lying unconscious on an operating table while a masked man held up a pair of tweezers and shone light on the bullet that had entered her.

“And you’re not the judge and executioner, Natasha,” Steve said calmly, releasing her arm and resting his large hand on her shoulder. His face was full of sympathy, and Natasha knew that he understood. That he was probably thinking what it would be like if it was his Sam, his Uncle Sam, lying on that table.

“Let us handle this, okay? I promise I’ll tell you everything we find out, but Maria needs you a lot more than you need to find out why this happened. She needs you to be strong. Brave. For her.”

“I’m scared,” Natasha admitted, more than a little ashamed when her lower lip trembled.

She wanted Maria to wake up. She wanted Maria to wake up, and she wanted her pacifier.

Steve nodded and hugged Natasha to his broad chest, squeezing her for a minute before letting her go.

“It’ll be fine. Just stay strong for her, okay?”

He left, and Natasha leaned against the ledge again, watching as the doctor who had extracted the bullet from Maria now began the delicate work of stitching her up.

Be strong for her.

Yeah, she could do that, Natasha thought.

Maria would come back to her, and Natasha would be strong.

***

The bullet had missed killing her by mere inches, Maria’s surgeon told Natasha. Maybe someone had jostled the shooter, or he’d just had terrible aim. But whatever it was, they should all be grateful that it hadn’t been worse.

Natasha sat at Maria’s bedside, holding the woman’s hand, and wondered how even this wasn’t _worse_.

It was late night now, just after nine, and the medication was keeping Maria sufficiently drugged and asleep. Which was fine, Natasha didn’t want her to be in any pain; but she needed to see Maria’s eyes, needed to reassure herself, in spite of what the doctor had said, that Maria was going to come back to her and would be _fine_.

Sam had come in at half-past seven. Had been stable and calm as he always was. Natasha could tell why Steve loved him so, why the former soldier was the perfect match for a man who would always be a soldier. For a boy thrust out of time. He’d tried to get Natasha to leave, to eat something, but Natasha had refused. She wasn’t going to leave Maria. She had to be strong, and things like food, well, that was a bit secondary at the moment.

She’d survived for years on stale biscuits and water, hadn’t she?

Clint had called from the farm, with Laura on the other phone in the house. Natasha had broken down and cried a little, then, because Clint was so strong and telling her that everything was going to be fine, and Laura was so gentle and just so sweet, actually soothing Natasha and telling her to take care of herself and to try to be brave, because that’s what Maria needed.

And of course she could be brave. She _was_ brave. She was a Black Widow, after all.

“We do not know fear,” Natasha muttered, jumping slightly when she was answered with a low moan coming from the bed.

“Maria?”

Her eyes were open; even better, they were focused on Natasha.

“Hey,” Maria croaked, and Natasha sprang into action, grabbing the cup of ice water and holding the straw to Maria’s lips. She slipped her hand around to cup the back of Maria’s head, helping her up; Maria drank until the cup was empty, and Natasha lowered her back to the pillow.

“Hey,” Maria said again, and Natasha took her hand in both of hers.

“About damn time,” she joked, kissing Maria’s knuckles. “Welcome back, Commander.”

Maria shifted in bed, grunting a little in pain, and Natasha reached out to place her hand on Maria’s shoulder.

“Don’t move,” she warned. “Do you want me to call the nurse?”

“Maybe in a minute.” Maria looked around the hospital room, then tugged up her shirt to look at the bandages that were stretched out over her left side. She glanced at Natasha.

“Did they get him?”

Natasha smiled. “Yeah, they got him, baby.”

So far they hadn’t been able to work out who he was with, Cap had told Natasha a couple hours earlier. They had their suspicions, but he was staying quiet.

That wouldn’t last long, Natasha knew.

“Good.” Maria reached up to touch Natasha’s cheek with her fingertips. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I am now,” Natasha said.

 _But don’t ever do that again_ , she silently added.

Maria nodded. “Good,” she said again. “About that nurse…”

“I got it,” Natasha said. She pressed the call button on the side of the bed. “What, can you not stand the sight of me without being drugged?” she teased.

“Shut up, Romanoff,” Maria said, pushing at Natasha’s hand held in hers. “Maybe you’re just so beautiful I can’t handle it.”

“Always a smooth talker.” A strand of hair was falling into Maria’s eyes; Natasha brushed it away tenderly with her free hand.

“Get some rest,” she said to Maria as the nurse walked in. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

Natasha had subsisted on three packs of crackers and four bottles of Sprite by the time Maria was allowed to go home three days later. The doctor had given explicit instructions on how they were to clean the wound, how much bed rest Maria would need, and how she was _not_ to go back to work for another two weeks.

Maria had not been happy about that, but it had made Natasha practically giddy. She knew Maria worked too hard, and now, she could force her to actually rest. She’d be able to make Maria’s dinners, help her with her baths, actually _take care_ of her. And hadn’t Maria done that enough for Natasha? It was time for her to return the favor.

Once home, Maria absolutely refused to get into the bed. Natasha had huffed, Maria had glared, and in the end, a massive amount of pillows and blankets found their way to the couch in Maria’s living room. Maria thought the whole thing was ridiculous, and she said so. Natasha just shrugged.

“Deal with it,” she said, and tucked the covers around Maria before arranging water, some snacks, and the television remote on the coffee table so that it was within reach. She just smirked and walked off when Maria asked where was her laptop.

Natasha knew that she ought to fix herself something to eat; she made a couple slices of toast as she worked to get Maria’s lunch ready, barely tasting it while plating up Maria’s food. Natasha caught sight of the empty bottle sat on the kitchen counter and a strange lump arose in her throat, but she swallowed past it.

It was time to be brave.

Natasha put Maria’s food in her lap then moved to sit in the armchair; Maria looked at her curiously.

“Don’t you want to sit with me?” she asked, and Natasha shook her head.

“No, it’s okay, I want you to relax.”

It was a lame excuse, Natasha knew, and the expression on Maria’s face told her girlfriend that the director agreed. But she said nothing, and Natasha sat hovering by just in case she needed anything.

She helped Maria go to the bathroom, helped her bathe, helped her eat her dinner. Then she helped Maria into her pajamas and into bed; by then, Maria was a little irritated by it all, but Natasha didn’t care. This was what she was meant to do, she told herself. She was an adult, and Maria was her girlfriend.

“I’ll just be in my room,” Natasha said, kissing Maria’s forehead after pulling the covers up around her. “Just call for me if you need anything.”

She started to go, but Maria’s hand in hers stopped her.

“Don’t you want to stay?” Maria asked quietly.

Natasha stared down at her. She wanted to stay. She wanted to stay more than anything, she thought. She wanted to be back in Maria’s arms, to be held close and loved, to be reassured that Maria hadn’t died, that she was really there.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said instead.

“You’re not going to.” Maria pulled back the covers from the side of the bed.

“Come on, baby.”

Natasha hesitated, but climbed in finally, clad only in her underwear and tee-shirt. She held back a little awkwardly, not wanting to get too close in case the pressure would cause Maria any pain, but Maria grunted in frustration and wrapped her arm around Natasha’s waist, tugging until the women were flush against each other.

“That’s more like it,” she said with a gentle kiss, and Natasha smiled.

Maria was there. She was alive, and Natasha was brave.

In the morning when she woke, Natasha’s thumb was wrinkled and indented where she had been sucking on it. Maria’s eyes were crinkled with love as she watched her.

“There’s my baby bunny,” she said affectionately.

Natasha jerked the covers back and got out of bed.

“I should get your breakfast.”

***

Over the next week, Maria tried to coax her. With a bottle full of milk on the kitchen counter. A yellow pacifier with a little brown bunny, perched on the coffee table in the living room. With a doll and a picture book, on Maria’s lap when she asked if Natasha wanted to read a story.

Natasha poured the milk down the sink.

Put the pacifier into a desk drawer.

“I’m fine,” she told Maria, and put the doll and the picture book onto the low table where the rest of her toys were.

She didn’t need them. Maria needed her to be strong and brave.

Cap had said so. Laura had said so.

It was hard to fight off the fuzziness during the day. She was tired, and she was hungry. Natasha was forcing herself to eat small bits here and there, but that was it. Her days were consumed with making Maria’s meals, helping her to bathe, to change the bandages that concealed the neat, stitched up bullet hole.

Every time Natasha peeled away the white gauze, saw Maria’s bare skin slightly reddened and puckered, she remembered the shot.

Remembered Maria’s eyes drifting closed as Natasha held her.

_Mama, please don’t go to sleep…_

They argued when Maria found her laptop and carted it back to her couch-bed to do some work.

“You have to rest,” Natasha said.

“I have been resting,” Maria countered. “You won’t let me do anything but.”

“Work will just stress you out.”

“Maybe I need to be stressed out!”

“That makes no sense,” Natasha said, and Maria sighed.

“I need something to _do_ ,” she said. “I feel helpless sat here like this, and the sooner I get back into work, the better. Natasha, you know I need this. Please.”

She wished she hadn’t given in, but it did seem to brighten Maria’s spirits. And that was all that mattered, right?

When Maria went to bed, Natasha said she’d join her later. In a little while. She needed to clean up the kitchen. Maria looked at her as if she didn’t believe a word Natasha had said, but Natasha didn’t care. She was tired, she was hungry, and it was _so hard_ to fight back the fuzziness. The urge to grab her dolls and her toys.

She finished putting everything in the apartment back into its proper place. Hesitated outside of Maria’s door.

Natasha went to the guest bedroom.

Two hours later, she woke up with a start.

She had soaked herself, and the bed. The realization made tears begin to trickle down Natasha’s face as she pulled herself up and began to strip the bed.

So she wasn’t brave after all. Just a stupid little kid who had wet herself.

Her pants were sticking to her by the time Natasha resigned herself to the fact that she couldn’t find where Maria kept the spare sheets, because she hadn’t ever had an accident in Maria’s apartment. Maria always made sure that there were diapers around for her, and Natasha had never dropped so little that she hadn’t been able to control herself. Not since that time they’d found her trainer.

So she dropped the soiled sheets into the laundry and moved, wet and cold, into the living room to find her tac bag, and the pull-ups she found there. She couldn’t change into a diaper on her own, so the pullups were there just in case something were to ever happen on an op. Natasha knew that Tony always brought his, so that had helped her feel a little less weird about it.

Natasha changed out of her wet clothes and into the pull-up; with shaking hands she slipped on a pink tee-shirt and trudged her way back into the guest room.

With no blankets or sheets, the room was cold. Natasha curled into herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillow.

She could be brave. She could do it. She _could_.

***

“Oh, _bunny_.”

Maria found her, shivering and silent, when she’d gotten up to get a drink of water. The door to the guest room was usually closed; this time, it was wide open. Natasha looked as she had that first time at the farm. Scared and lonely, with tears streaking down her cheeks.

Maria went straight to the living room and retrieved the pacifier from its spot inside the desk drawer, where Natasha had shoved it days earlier.

She’d been trying for days to help Natasha into her little state; she’d heard Natasha pleading for her mama not to sleep, just before Maria had lost consciousness when she’d been shot. Maria knew more than anyone what Natasha needed, but for whatever reason, she’d seemed to be resisting it.

And now it appeared as if she’d have no choice in the matter.

Natasha had dropped, Maria could see, and she’d dropped hard.

In spite of the nagging pain that had been her constant for the last few weeks, Maria knelt next to Natasha, brushing her hair away from her tear-stained face.

“There’s my baby bunny,” she said gently. She raised the pacifier to Natasha’s lips. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Natasha pushed it away. “Don’ need it,” she said. “I’m brave. I’m a big girl. I can be big. I can.” She struggled to sit up, but Maria held her down.

“You’re a very brave girl,” she said, stroking Natasha’s cheek. “But you don’t have to be a _big_ girl, not right now. Mama’s missed her little girl.”

“Have t’take care of you,” Natasha mumbled, not looking at Maria. “Cap and Laura, they told me to be strong. That you needed me to be brave.”

Ah. Maria closed her eyes for a moment, resolving that she’d have to have a talk with Steve and Laura, once she took care of Natasha. They meant well, she knew, but still. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, right?

“You’ve taken very good care of me,” Maria said firmly, raising Natasha’s chin so that her girlfriend was forced to look at her. Natasha’s eyes were cloudy; Maria could only guess the struggle that was going on inside the poor girl.

“But I’m still your mama. I still want to take care of you. That helps me feel better, when I can be strong and take care of you. And I bet it’ll make you feel a lot better, too. What do you think? Can we try?”

Natasha hesitated, but finally nodded. Maria smiled a little, and raised the pacifier again. This time, Natasha allowed it to be slipped into her mouth.

“There we go,” Maria said warmly. “Now come here.”

She held out her arms, and this time there was no hesitation as Natasha melted into her embrace.

“M’sorry,” she sniffled against Maria’s shoulder. “I’m scared, Mama…”

“I know,” Maria soothed, rocking her gently in her arms as she knelt. “It’s all right, I’m here.”

“Thought you were gonna leave,” Natasha mumbled. “Thought you were g-gonna…”

“Shh, shh. I’m right here, baby, see? Mama’s not gone.”

She held Natasha a few moments longer, before gently pulling back. “Let’s get you into your jammies, okay?” she suggested. “Baby bunnies need to be dry and warm, remember?”

Maria managed to stand up without wincing, and held her hand out to Natasha. “Mama can’t carry you, but I’ll get you into a nice clean diaper and then you should have something to eat. You haven’t been eating very well, sweetheart.”

It hurt her heart, seeing Natasha cast her eyes down to her feet as Maria walked with her to pick out a diaper with stars, and then led her back to the bed.

“You forgot Mama keeps the extra blankets in the closet outside the bathroom, didn’t you, baby?”

Natasha nodded, limp and compliant as Maria powdered and diapered her, then helped her sit back up.

“Well, that’s all right,” Maria said cheerfully, kissing her forehead. “Next time you won’t need extra blankets, because you’ll be sleeping with Mama.”

The meaning was clear, but Natasha shook her head.

“Get bed wet.”

“So?” Maria said casually, reaching into Natasha’s tac bag and pulling out the pair of shorts that matched her tee-shirt. “If you get the bed wet, we change it. Then we go back to sleep.” She tapped Natasha’s nose.

“Little ones have accidents sometimes. And it’s a mama’s job to fix it.” She met Natasha’s teary eyes with her own.

“I promise you, I’ll always fix it,” Maria said to Natasha. “All right?”

Natasha nodded. “Okay, Mama.”

Maria took her into the kitchen and sat Natasha down at the table. The little girl didn’t seem to want to be away from her, now, so Maria quickly pulled everything she’d need out of the cabinets and refrigerator, moving it all to the table. She sat as close to Natasha as their chairs would allow, the other girl watching as Maria began to make up Natasha’s favorite: peanut butter and banana sandwiches with honey.

She even smiled when Maria cut the crusts off, and Maria kissed her baby soft cheek and nuzzled her nose.

“Here we go,” she said, putting two of the sandwiches in front of Natasha, and filling up a bottle with milk, then a sippy cup. She put the bottle to the side, and handed Natasha the sippy cup.

“Eat, baby,” she ordered, tucking a strand of Natasha’s hair behind her ear. “You haven’t been taking good care of yourself at all.”

Natasha was ravenous, seemingly relieved to finally be able to relax and slip into her little state, whether she had wanted to at first or not. Maria could see the strength coming back into her with every bite Natasha took, every sip of the milk, and she felt a little bit of her own worry gradually begin to melt away. She’d felt so helpless, not being able to work _or_ take care of her girlfriend. Or let Natasha be the little girl she was. She’d needed to know that it was still there, that in spite of taking a bullet Maria Hill could still be the director of SHIELD. Be Natasha’s girlfriend. Be her little bunny’s mama.

It wasn’t like Maria hadn’t been terrified, herself. She’d snuck a phone call in to Cap, when Natasha had actually left her side once to take a shower. They still hadn’t figured out what the gunman’s motive had been, but they were pretty sure he’d been acting alone. Maybe some mental issues, Steve had suggested. That hadn’t done much to alleviate the reality that Maria had _actually been shot_ , but it was at least some comfort to know that there wasn’t some existing plot to assassinate her.

It made her worry, too, about what she would do if something were to ever happen to Natasha. Or what Natasha would do, if by some bitter stroke of fate Maria was no longer there. But they just couldn’t allow themselves to think about that, Maria knew.

At least, not right now. That was probably a conversation that would have to happen another time. But no. Not right now.

Right now, Natasha was finishing up her sandwiches and looking at Maria with wide, trusting eyes that seemed a lot more hopeful than they had just a few hours ago.

Maria smiled. “It’s long past your bedtime, baby bunny,” she said, and took Natasha’s hand in hers, picking up the bottle of milk with the other.

“But…”

“Baby, if you wake up wet, that’s okay. That’s why we have diapers, sweetheart. And that’s why you have a mama, to clean you up and fix the bed and then snuggle you till you can’t take it anymore.”

That brought a grin to Natasha’s face, and Maria’s heart soared.

“Can take lots of snuggles, Mama.”

“Well, we’ll just have to test that,” Maria said. She led Natasha into her bedroom and ushered the little girl under the covers, then climbed in next to her. She handed Natasha the bottle, watching as she stared at it, still unsure.

“It’s all right,” Maria reassured. She laid down and drew Natasha close, reaching to take the pacifier out of her mouth.

“M’brave, Mama,” Natasha insisted, and Maria nodded. She guided the bottle to Natasha’s lips, relieved when she took it and began to suck.

“You’re very brave.” She tucked Natasha close to her chest, hoping the little girl would be soothed by the sound of her heartbeat.

It worked. Instantly comforted, Natasha’s eyes closed as she sucked on the bottle, her free hand gripping Maria’s shirt.

Maria kissed the top of her head and sighed, brushing away a tear that fell.

“And you know what?” she whispered.

Natasha didn’t answer, already on her way to sleep. Maria smiled, and closed her own eyes.

_You make me brave too._


End file.
